


Fireside Reminiscence

by of noonvale (babybel)



Category: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: Angst, Gen, also. gonff is so sweet and good :'), martin has dad issues because how couldn't he??, this was for redwall secret santa last year but i never posted it to ao3 so here it is!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:00:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24409951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybel/pseuds/of%20noonvale
Summary: When Luke left, Martin, just a kid, couldn't comprehend why his father would leave his own son to chase a ghost. Now, having lost Rose, he can understand all too well.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Fireside Reminiscence

**Author's Note:**

> this is an old one, but it used to be just on my tumblr and i thought i should pop it up on here too :) originally written for redwall secret santa 2019

“Why can’t I come with you?” 

“Martin, we’ve talked about this.” Luke was standing at the shoreline, preparing to leave with his selected crew in pursuit of the _Goreleech_. “It isn’t safe.”

Martin was a few paces behind his father, still lingering by the entrance to their cave. “But I can help,” he pleaded. “I can fight, I can-”

“Martin,” Luke snapped, and then he sighed, rubbing his eyes with a paw. “Please don’t fight me on this.”

“But I don’t…” Martin stopped, and considered listening to his father. Perhaps it would be better if he accepted it, if he let his father go and went back inside to sit with his grandmother and pretended it was a normal day and that he wasn’t being left behind. But then, he seldom did what he was told. “You’re bringing mice from the tribe, how am I different?”

Luke turned away from the sea, looking at him. “Do you want a list?”

Martin gritted his teeth, and didn’t reply. 

“You’re young, you’re too young to help crew a ship or wield a weapon,” Luke began. “I can’t leave Windred alone, I owe it to your mother to make sure she’s taken care of, and that’ll be your job. I’m not just leaving you to leave you, I-”

After a moment’s silence, Martin, voice low, asked, “What?” He hated hating his father, but it seemed that he didn’t have any other choice. He was furious, so furious he could feel tears pricking at his eyes. Why was he being left behind again? His mother had already been taken from him, and now his father was leaving as well. 

“I have to do this,” Luke finished. “You don’t understand yet, but you will, when you’re older. I have to.” He sounded exhausted. “We’re pushing off tomorrow, and, Martin, I don’t need you to make this harder than it is.” 

Martin looked down, and tried to figure out how it was on him. How it was his fault, how it would be him making it harder. He’d spent his entire life looking up to his father. He couldn’t see how this was fair. “Mother wouldn’t want you to leave me.” He said it quietly, eyes still trained on the pebbly shore beneath his paws. It was a gamble and he knew it; he hadn’t even known his mother. He regretted it the moment it was out. 

“Get inside,” Luke snapped. 

“But-”

“Get inside right now. I’m doing this for her, how dare you say that-”

Martin sniffed, and tried again. “But if you’d just-”

“Get inside!”

To Martin, the words were louder than a thunderclap. He turned and ran, not stopping until he was pressed against his grandmother by the fire in the cave. He couldn’t shake the feeling that if this wasn’t somehow his fault, his father would bring him along. Luke wasn’t just leaving; he was leaving Martin. 

He fell asleep, head on Windred’s lap, before his father came back inside.

The following morning, Luke left, in better spirits than the previous night. There was no resolution though, for Martin. The argument wasn’t really apologized for, and neither was the leaving. Martin wasn’t given a clue as to why he couldn’t come along, he was just given a sword too large for him to properly wield, and then he sat on the rocks and watched his father sail away. 

He sat there for the better part of the day, unable to shake the hope that he’d see the ship returning, that his father would realize he needed him and come back. The horizon stayed perfectly undisturbed and empty. He never saw his father again. 

* * *

Martin turned over, unable to sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about growing up on the North Shore. He couldn’t stop thinking about his father. 

“Bad dream?” Gonff’s voice came from over near their little campfire. 

Martin sighed, summoning a tired laugh. “Can’t even get to sleep.”

“May I offer you a lullaby?” Gonff’s tone was half joking, but Martin knew the offer was genuine. 

He sat up, and moved closer to the fire, sitting opposite Gonff. “I’ll just keep watch tonight, you can sleep.” 

Gonff shrugged, fiddling with the flute he’d already pulled out of its travel sheath. “Twice the eyes means we’ll be twice as safe, doesn’t it?”

“You don’t need to-”

“It’s alright.” Gonff smiled, and he really did have the warmest smile Martin had seen since- 

He was still hesitant to even think about her, to even think her name. Luke had told him a long time ago that one day he’d understand, that one day he’d know why you’d do anything to get revenge on the creature who’d taken your love from you. He did understand now, and he wished he didn’t. “Do you ever see yourself as a father, Gonff?” he asked.

Gonff blinked. “And this question comes from where, exactly? Seems rather from the far off forest of out-of-the-blue to me, Martin, is there any reason why-”

“No, no reason,” Martin said, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at Gonff’s antics. 

After a moment, Gonff said, “Maybe. Well- yes, maybe. What about you?”

“You’d be wonderful at it,” Martin replied. “Me, not so much.”

“Oh, that’s poppycock if I’ve ever heard it.” Gonff reached around the fire to give Martin a gentle smack with the flute. 

Martin brushed him away. He looked into the fire, getting lost in the twisting and jumping flames. He understood his father perfectly now. He wished he didn’t, often, but everything Luke did made all too much sense. He couldn’t risk repeating it, couldn’t risk playing Luke to his poor son’s Martin. He sighed. “It’s just not in my blood.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr [@eulaliaaaaaa](https://eulaliaaaaaa.tumblr.com/)


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